Desc: BDSM Sex Story: Chapter 1 - 1947; a girl's dismembered body was found, placed by the roadside as though she had simply lay down there, her body halved. The police allowed the evidence to be compromised by the hacks who trampled over everything and the murderers were never caught; not by the police anyway. This is the story of what I like to think happened; vengeful women carry out their own investigations and bring those guilty to a justice of their own, one weak link gives up the others; retribution is divinely served.

Dee Hutton smiled with satisfaction as the two males sat next to her in the Hollywood bar viewed the newspaper headlines, grim faced; 'Rapist Ragland dies in North Carolina gas chamber.' She tried to imagine him grimacing and drooling as the sweet almond smell of cyanide wafted about his head as he gasped and struggled impotently while justice was served. Her panties damp at the thought, she lifted her glass under the lace veil which covered the top half of her face, suspended from the small brown hat which sat at an angle on her auburn hair, and pressed the lipstick smugded glass to her full red lips, downing the red wine within. She placed the glass on the bar and slipped her full figure elegantly from the stool and clutched her purse before strutting toward the exit. Several males who had been enjoying her feminine features looked on in disappointment as she left, not having had the courage to brave an encounter with her; their cocks remaining in an excited state as they watched the shapely globes of her full ass bustle in the tight brown skirt, her seamed stockings leading deliciously down to spiked heels. They knew that this was an assertive, independent woman, her attire confirmed she was no street hooker; a woman who had no qualms about walking into the obviously male domain of a downtown bar unaccompanied. The barman wiped a glass, a smile on his face as he too watched with a strange awe, one of the males who had been holding the paper looked up at him after watching her depart.

"That's my kind of woman! Is she a regular here?" The barman gave half a laugh as he looked down on the fedora wearing male across the bar.

"She appears on occasion, some say she is a businesswoman, some say she's outlived about three husbands; either way she's way out of your league, she's a maneater, that's the only thing that's certain."

It was March 1947, and though Dee Hutton was pleased with the newspaper headlines, she still had only one thing on her mind as she stepped into the red Buick convertible; seeing those responsible for the cruel death of the young would-be actress serve just and deserved retribution; the efforts of the police force in bringing anyone to justice had so far been futile, and it was well known that the press had trampled over what little evidence that was available in their securing the guilty through legal means. The dismembered body of the attractive 22 year old had caused such a field day for the hacks; they had blundered over everything, even at the police department, in their efforts to secure a scoop, ruining possible leads for ever. As a businesswoman who worked within the Hollywood industry, she would use her own contacts to gather information into the lurid death of 'The Black Dahlia'; caught by the police, there was always the chance they may escape the gas chamber, caught by her and her associates, they would pay justly and dearly. Abused sexually as a teenager, Dee had learned at an early age how men were driven by their balls; her abuse went unrecorded with the authorities, after consulting her aunt Hortense, she was no longer troubled; it was her pleasure to learn months later that the male in question was no longer troubled by his balls either; though a wealthy and law-abiding family, justice was something dealt with swiftly and privately on occasion. Dee had met the pretty black haired Beth momentarily, auditioning for bit-parts in b-movies that Dee had an interest in; the slender black haired girl had no real talent where acting was concerned, but her figure and looks would ensure she descended into the sleazier world of that industry. It had since become known that she had a particular penchant for men in uniform; countless war based productions had a plethora of males dressed that way, though few of them had been anywhere near the military, they would have attracted her curiosity.

Dee parked the car and ascended the steps to her Bel Air home, to be greeted by the ring of her phone.

"Hi Dee, it's Laverne; I'm down at Sandy's apartment at the moment, she was out a post production party last night and went for a drink later with a few of the others, they bumped into some people and one of them told them a few things in confidence under the influence of liquor. I think I may have a positive I.D. on someone who knows what happened to Beth." Dee took a deep breath; Laverne was a kindred spirit who knew when something was gossip, and when something showed credibility, she would not waste her time and was also keenly independent. She was equally outraged by the incident and had no fear of the male gender; she had enjoyed the company of many of them, strictly under her terms. Dee scribbled down the address.

"I'll see you over there in about half an hour, keep her sweet till I get there." She thought about the headline she'd seen earlier as she eased her tight skirt off and found some casual slacks and softer shoes; maybe it had been an omen. She checked the Walther in her purse was loaded; having a target to aim it at, with the promise of hearing some names, gave her cunt its second thrill of the day.

In a downtown flat two storeys above a liquor store, Hal Burns was eagerly masturbating over a news article which had pictures of Beth, and told of how the police were no closer to making an arrest; as his mind went back to the event he laughed as he stroked his cock, remembering how one of the others, Brett Hammond, had continually thrown up and shown remorse. He had enjoyed her as much as any of the others but could not stomach her torture; Burns would need keep an eye on him over the coming weeks, instilling in him his opinion that the girl was just another tramp who got what she deserved. His cock stiffened as he looked up at the film strip Lieutenant's uniform he'd been wearing when he secured the girl, as it hung from the picture rail, and then looked down at the soft face on the paper, a face he had assisted in disfiguring; he groaned with pleasure as he grinned in orgasm, splattering the paper and her face with globules of hot semen.

Up in Beverley Hills, Seb Monroe peered from the room atop one of the towers of his mansion at the hilly suburban and verdant landscape beyond, then strutted back to the whimpering and naked would-be starlet who lay on the leather couch. His cock stood erect as he flexed the horse whip in his hands, hands that he believed to be above the law; as a movie director he part owned this town which had made him his fortune. Indulging his pleasure of sadomasochism on pretty girls who had no chance of becoming actresses was a perk he truly believed he had earned. The treatment of one such actress was fresh in his mind as he thrashed the soft white buttocks of his latest victim; he would control himself this time as no audience was around to suggest he'd gone 'soft'; she would be paid well to keep her mouth shut, and besides, she had been picked up for audition at a club frequented by bondage perverts; she would be enjoying this as much as he. Monroe ceased with the whip, he was ready to come. As the tearful blonde writhed in pain on the leather couch he touched her arms with the whip.

"Grab your ankles, and head up now; your master is ready to be serviced." The sobbing girl duly arched her back as her soft hands pulled at her slender ankles, her smudged and pouting lips offered up to his stiff cock. Monroe sighed with pleasure as he slipped his hard cock into the soft warmth of her mouth, making her gag as he began to thrust hips back and forth. As he approached orgasm he looked down at the soft blonde and imagined the black hair of a recent conquest; the girl spluttered and gagged as he groaned and filled her pretty mouth with hot seed.

Dee arrived at Sandy's Hollywood apartment and was greeted by Laverne Brent, a business associate who had a talent for attracting soft males, many of whom she had the pleasure of, and frequently tried to pair Dee off with; Dee occasionally taking up the offer when her assertive desires got the better of her. The stern looking brunette hugged her and her face bore an expression of sheer delight, as though she'd just acquired a harem of willing and healthy young males.

"You are not going to believe this; Sandy just phoned a girl she met at that party and acted coy, made out she'd taken a shine to the person we spoke of; we've got a name and address. Let's go see her before we take a trip." Laverne wiggled her body through to the lounge and lit a cigarette, her black outfit and hair in a bun magnifying her assertive persona; she looked every inch the perfect femme fatale. Sandy by contrast, sat smiling into a mirror as she lay bright red lipstick on thick, her bright ginger hair fluffed out Shirley Temple style, a tight yellow blouse with puffer sleeves making her look invitingly virginal, a pleated white skirt and white ankle socks completing a wholesome look she would not normally adopt. Dee chuckled.

"We were all getting a little tired and the booze had been flowing all night, loosening some people's tongues. We joined a group of girls we knew of, who had a single male with them whose head was on the table next to the half empty bottle of whisky he'd finished the night with. He kept moaning about how he 'didn't want to have been there.' and how he 'wished he could bring her back.' I thought at first that he'd just split with a girl and was drowning his sorrows; I was half cut myself and didn't pay too much attention at first. About fifteen minutes later, one of the girls swatted him with a newspaper; it dropped open at a page displaying the latest in the Black Dahlia case, and he went white and stood bolt upright. None of the others noticed, they had returned to their drinks, but the look in his face was one of sheer terror; he grabbed his hat and staggered out, looking about him as though he were about to be arrested. After he left I casually asked Cherie - the girl I phoned today for his details - who he was and what she knew of him? She winked at me and said he had caught her eye too, but that he'd been acting really weird lately, since January, as a matter of fact. She felt sorry for him because he had been threatened with being fired from his job as an extra in some b-movie because he couldn't keep things together; it was strange because he had also said he wanted to get out of town, so you'd think he'd just leave, but two other guys often appeared where he socialised and seemed to be keeping an eye on him. She said she thought he must owe them money or something." She took a deep breath and lifted the coffee Laverne had just brought over, the brunette sitting down with them. The ginger haired Sandy continued.

"I still couldn't quite believe what I was thinking, that is until one of the other girls who knew him joined in with the conversation and made my suspicions too strong to remain uninvestigated; she was a very pretty girl who had been pestered by him no end after new year, she blushed a little despite the drink bringing out the brasher side in her, as she explained that he had promised to get her an audition if she showed him a little consideration in private which would sway it. Like a lot of girls, being desperate for work, she agreed to meet him at her flat ... on 14th January. She was most put out when he didn't show; he had seemed so keen, and looking at her, something pretty traumatic would have needed to occur to stop any male having a sex session with her. She was angry at first, but then went round to his flat the day after, to make sure he had not been involved in an accident or something. She met him leaving his flat and she said he looked exhausted; despite her amorous advances he was just not interested, he apologised but did not offer her in, she assumed he had another woman in there and stormed off. Given that he'd pursued her relentlessly for the prior fortnight and she'd agreed to have sex with him, she was none too kind with her thoughts on him." Dee agreed, this was too many coincidences.

"What's his name?" Sandy puckered her lips.

"Brett Hammond; I'll go in first, then let you in; if he's innocent it can't hurt, if he's not we'll soon get some names from him." Laverne smiled as she saw Dee's enthusiasm when they got into the car.

"That Ty Cooper is still available you know; he's well trained and would make a nice well behaved companion for you, he's not got over the first time he saw you, he worships the ground you walk on." Dee's cunt blossomed just a little as she thought of having a male at her beck and call, then thrust her foot onto the accelerator, making the Buick shoot forward. She smiled at Laverne as Sandy held on to her hair.

"Let's stick to business for now, ask me again later."

Hammond looked up with a start when the door-bell rang, and crept up to the door, looking cautiously through one of the three small panes of glass. A ginger haired girl smiled softly at him; he looked from side to side as far as he could and seeing no-one else opened the door. He raised a weak smile as Sandy spoke softly.

"One of the girls told me you can arrange auditions with people that count, I hope you don't mind me asking?" His cock swelled as looked at the softly dressed ginger girl, imagining her soft white cunt; despite his frayed nerves this was too good an opportunity to turn down.

"Who told you I knew people who could work that? Please, come in and tell me." As he waved his arm inwards and stepped aside looking down the hall, Sandy walked by him but he found he could not close the door. He felt the pressure of cold steel against his temple and heard the ominous click of a pistol being cocked. He turned his head slowly and was amazed to see it was held by an attractive auburn haired woman, her red lips swelled as she pushed him inside and an equally attractive brunette closed the door behind them. Sandy looked round to make sure he was on his own, then kicked the bedroom door fully open and lay on the bed.

"You asked who told me about you? The Black Dahlia, that's who." His face took on an instant look of terror as Laverne pushed him to his knees and Dee pressed the gun against the back of his head. Their cunts buzzed as the feeble Hammond announced his guilt immediately.

"Please! ... I didn't think they'd kill her, I only helped tie her to the bed..." Laverne took an extendible flail which was tucked behind her belt, extended it and smiled with pleasure as she whipped his back with it.

"You only helped tie her up ... clothes off, now!" Hammond did as he was told and stripped naked. Dee sat cross legged on the bed as Laverne circled him, thrashing him with the flail; they were delighted to see his cock erect as he was punished. Dee smiled wickedly.

"You are going to tell us the names of every man involved in her murder; we have all the time in the world, and you'll tell ... if we have to cut everything off to make you talk. But we can't do that here, that would be too messy and we wouldn't want the police to get involved would we?" The women laughed as he quaked with fear, Sandy took the gun and held it to his head as Dee took a wad of cotton wool from her bag, emptied a phial of chloroform over it and smiling softly, held it over his mouth.

"Sweet dreams Brett, when you wake up you'll be nice and comfortable, and my friend here has many other toys she'd like to excite you with; we can see you like the flail." Hammond gagged a little, the room span, and he thought he heard the giggling of women as his pants were put back on ... then it all went black.